


Inevitable. Destiny.

by Epiphanyx7



Category: Merlin (BBC)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-25
Updated: 2010-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphanyx7/pseuds/Epiphanyx7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was, quite obviously, dead. And wasn't <em>that </em>just bloody perfect. What in the bloody sodding <em>hell </em>was Merlin supposed to do now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inevitable. Destiny.

**Author's Note:**

>  I have no idea why I wrote this, or what was supposed to happen next, but whatevs. The sooner I get back into the posting/writing rhythm, the better. So. Ficlet!

Everyone had always gone on and on about what a great king Arthur was destined to be, what a great destiny he had in store with Merlin at his side. It was almost as if they thought it was _inevitable_ , Merlin realized bitterly. And of course, no one had ever actually thought about what a difficult business it was, making sure that the future played out according to plan. About _Merlin's_ destiny -- protecting Arthur.

And, he thought, staring down at Arthur's limp and bleeding body. He was, quite obviously, dead. And wasn't _that_ just bloody perfect.

What in the bloody sodding _hell_ was Merlin supposed to do now?

His fingers were trembling. He should have been faster -- should have reinforced Arthur's armor with magic, should have done something -- anything, to ensure that this wouldn't have happened. Except it had, he'd bollocked it up but good, and now Arthur --

Merlin wasn't sure how he'd managed to do it. His hands were shaking, trembling with something like exhaustion, and possibly with the cold as well. There were sounds, too, the low thunderous pounding of horses hooves, probably the knights closing in -- and shout that sounded suspiciously like Lancelot even though Lance wasn't supposed to be there.

Fuck that, Merlin thought, and he summoned his magic because he was quite sure that he didn't want to live in Camelot without Arthur, thank you very much. Why would _anyone_ want to live in a Camelot without Arthur? Arthur was beautiful and strong and brave and noble and all the things that Camelot was going to be, but a world without Arthur was a world where Arthur would never, ever take the throne. It would be years and years more of Uther Pendragon's rule, a man bitter first at the loss of his wife and then at the loss of his son. Decades more, and Uther would rule the kingdom with an iron fist in an iron gauntlet, brutal and harsh and never the kind of King that Merlin was going to bow to.

No, Merlin decided, letting the heat of magic pool in his eyes as he spread his fingers wide over Arthur's chest. It was Arthur or nothing. Arthur or death. The Camelot of his destiny, or the Camelot his nightmares... and Merlin refused to ever live to see the latter.

"Arthur," he said, closing his eyes. He could feel the way his voice resonated across the planes of existence, further than he'd ever had to project his voice before. " _Arthur_ ," Merlin said, even as his hands pulled magic from the earth and rock beneath them, healing his wounds and pulling them closed tightly, flesh knitting together seamlessly until it looked as if it had never been broken.

"Arthur," he called again, and he could see it, too, a vast and endless darkness swimming with lights, lights that were -- souls, all moving away from Merlin faster than he could move towards them. He pulled with his magic, speeding up as far as he could, knowing that the further he moved from his body the farther he was from life and all that lived. "Arthur, come back," He called.

The sea of light swam onward, inevitably, towards a horizon so vast that even Merlin could not see it, but one of them had slowed. Paused. And Merlin swept closer, closer still, saying "Arthur, is that you?"

"You _idiot_ ," the light said. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin grabbed him, held on to Arthur with his magic and his soul and his mind, wrapping every tendril of being that he could around the pinprick of light that was Arthur. Surprisingly, Arthur seemed more amused than anything, as Merlin began to pull him backwards.

They met with no resistance.

Until, that is, they arrived back at their bodies.

-

Arthur opened his eyes, spat blood, and then struggled to sit up. There was a heavy weight on his legs, and his eyes were filled with hovering shadows of blue light. He felt as if he'd spent his day staring at the sun.

"Sire!" And it was Gawain, galloping up behind him with Lancelot hot on his heels. "Sire, have you been injured?"

Arthur couldn't answer for a long moment, instead busying himself retching up every single thing he's eaten recently. "Wow,"

"Merlin, get up, you lazy sod." Arthur said, half-joking, but when he tried to pull Merlin off of him, he realized that his useless manservant was unnaturally cumbersome. Merlin lay half-on Arthur's chest, heavy and warm, but not moving.

"Merlin?"

Gawain had dismounted, as had Lancelot, and they were both staring at him as if something miraculous had happened. But it hadn't -- it was...

" _Merlin,_ " Arthur said, _ordered_ , holding his manservant and best friend by his shoulders.

Merlin's eyes flickered for a moment, eyelashes fluttering and his eyes flaring bright gold before they faded back to their natural blue. "Oh," He said, so faintly it was almost a whisper. "Oh -- good, Arthur, it worked," and then he fell forward, unconscious.

Arthur was set to laugh at him, and then he realized that Merlin wasn't breathing.

He automatically reached out, grabbed Merlin, started shouting at him and shaking him -- but no matter what he said or did or threatened, Merlin wouldn't start breathing again.

-  



End file.
